Invasion полностью

“Get them to the hideout and have the medics work on them,” Stocker ordered, after a long moment’s thought. If they could take the aliens alive, they'd have to give him a proper combat role, rather than patrolling the rear. “Check them for any kind of weapon and then move them out, carefully. We need to get them well away from here before dawn.”

The sense that the aliens would be taking steps to prevent them escaping with this treasure trove forced him forward, exploring the higher reaches of the craft. It had once stood on its end; now, lying on the ground, it was hard to reach the cockpit, but when he managed to climb inside, he found two more dead aliens. He examined them quickly, trying to determine what had killed them, but there didn’t seem to be any kind of real damage. They had cuts and scars from damaged consoles, but…there didn’t seem to be any real reason why they were dead. It was a complete mystery.

“Get these bodies as well,” he hissed, as the camouflage team arrived. Moving the alien craft before dawn would be impossible, but if they could hide it, they could break it up and move it, piece by piece. “Sergeant, get a couple of others up here and strip the craft of anything we can carry; books, files, whatever…”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said.

Stocker managed to climb back to the hatch and out into the cool air. Lights were twinkling high above him and he could only hope that one of them wasn't an alien KEW, coming to ensure that no alien secrets fell into human hands. If they could hide the craft…

“Sir, look at their foreheads,” one of the junior lieutenants said. “They’re marked!”

“Yeah, so?” Stocker asked coldly. The priority was getting the prisoners away from their craft, not discussing their tattoos. They’d be discussing the alien breasts next. “What about them?”

“They destroy religious buildings and they have marks on their forehead,” the lieutenant pointed out. “It could be the Mark of the Beast. They could be demons, or the servants of the antichrist…”

Stocker stared at him for a long moment. “You’ve been reading Left Behind too much,” he said, dryly. “This whole war is quite bad enough without adding supernatural elements to the problem, don’t you think? They bleed and die when we shoot them, so they’re not demons, are they?”

Femala felt her head swimming as, slowly, she returned to awareness. It took her time – it felt like entire cycles – to remember what had just happened. The shuttle had crashed, but somehow, she was still alive. They had to have come down in occupied territory, then, and the warriors had recovered their craft. The gravity was slightly heavier than that on the Guiding Star’s habitation section, which meant that they were still on Earth. The field medics had probably insisted that they remain on the planet until they were fit to return to orbit.

She opened her eyes and got the shock of her life. She knew, instantly, that she was lying inside a human room. The bed wasn't designed for her race – it was softer than any that they would have used – and the proportions were all wrong. Sprawled across the bed, she struggled to sit up, only to discover that she was strapped down. A massive black shape leaned over her and she cringed back, convinced that he was a demon and had come to drag her to the shadow pits for her disbelief. Cold logic asserted itself, eventually, and she realised that she was looking at a human. It took her a moment to realise that his dark skin tone was his natural colour, rather than a dread disease, and that he was smiling at her.

His voice was soft, but still too loud for Femala’s ears. “Can you understand me?”

She winced from the pain. “Yes,” she said, softly. She’d had to learn the human language to talk to their captives, but she hadn’t imagined being a captive herself…and stark naked into the bargain. The air was really too cold for normal clothing, let alone nakedness. Females might have bared their breasts as a matter of course, but they didn’t undress completely unless they had chosen a mate…and a father for their children. “What do you want?”

“We’re going to try to make you better,” the human assured her. His voice had softened, revealing that he had realised her problem, she hoped. Human medical science might be better or worse than that of the Takaina, but they wouldn’t know how to treat any of them. They might kill her with the best of intentions. “Once you’re well, we’ll discuss what’s going to happen to you next. Perhaps you can help us bring the war to an end.”

No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.

– Anon

“What do you mean, they’re attacking us?”